


The Accusation

by KristenRoth



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12963708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristenRoth/pseuds/KristenRoth
Summary: Krendler accused Clarice, but how much of it is true?





	The Accusation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [filthybonnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/gifts).



> Glad you enjoyed the others :)

She caught the brunt of the conversation as she walked past Krendler’s office. He had summoned her for some sort of ‘official’ talk- probably was going to make some snide comment about how he was free that weekend and lead it up to ‘would you like to do some filing?’

“Starling? Yeah, she’s a real cold bitch. Too bad too, because in any other circumstances, I’d be thrilled to take her home.” It caught her in the stomach, the words and the resentment behind them.

Deep, male laughter, and Starling seethed even more when she heard it. What brand of asshole lets a professional talk about their officers that way? Well, there wasn’t much she could do, but she wasn’t going to sit here and let them carry on about her. She stepped back a few footsteps and carried a brisk, noticeable pace back towards his office, and rapped three times on the door.

“Come in, Starling.”

She pushed the partially open door to open to where she could enter the room. She advanced not much further though, hating to be in Krendler’s home base under any circumstances. Krendler was sitting at his desk, slumped down and wrists banging the tail of his chair armrests. There was another officer, about forty, with dark hair and light eyes that refused to fully meet her gaze, sitting on the edge of his desk, files in one hand and a latte in another.

“Paul, you called for me? Hello, sir,” she acknowledged the man perched on Krendler’s desk.

“Agent Starling, this is Agent Sampson from D.C.; he’s up here on assignment.”

“How do you do?” She was brisk, and could tell Krendler didn’t like it. Too bad.

“Fine. Paul, I’ve got to get to work on having these lab reports organized, so we’ll talk later.” Krendler nodded, stopping the persistent banging with his wrists and sitting up to adjust his tie. “Nice meeting you, Agent…Starkling, you said?”

“Starling, but that’s all right.” He knew perfectly well what her name was, having heard it over at least two times.

“Oh, Starling. See you.”

He left in a breeze of cologne. Krendler’s beady eyes started up at her, as if trying to piece out something to criticize. She knew he would, later, with ‘the boys’. She straightened under their scrutiny.

“Have a seat, Clarice. What we have to talk about may be quite time consuming and it’s best if you make yourself comfortable.”

She really, really didn’t want to, but if what he said was true, she did want to have to stay standing forever and regret it. She took a seat on one of the cheap leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. The chairs smelled a bit like him; cheap, sweaty and horny, with coats of bad aftershave from many, many other people. She resisted the urge to plug her nose.

“What are we talking about, Mr. Krendler?”

“Well, I realize that you haven’t been in the best of situations with the assignments you’ve been getting. In fact, you’re in a stalemate of bad runs.” He said the words ‘stalemate’ as if it were a six-year-old’s spelling word. “I just wanted you to know that we could try and work on…something to get you out of your current situation.”

She didn’t like the feeling she was getting off of him. Since when had Krendler given a damn about her career? Hesitantly, she inquired what he meant, not liking the direction this was going in.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that I’ve seen how unhappy you’ve been with some of your jobs.”

“What are you saying, Paul? Are you saying that you’d get me assigned to bigger things?”

Krendler leaned over the desk conspiratorially. His breath smelled like Altoids, she noticed, but didn’t give it further thought when he reached across and gently put his hand on top of hers.

“What I’m saying, Clarice, is that I could make you a very, very happy, satisfied woman.”

She recoiled from his touch faster than she could stop herself and watched his mouth tighten.

“Mr. Krendler, I appreciate that you’re thinking of me, but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to give you the same answer I gave you a year ago.” Her civil tone became almost menacing as she leaned forward in her chair. “Hell will freeze over before I fuck you, Paul, regardless of my career’s situation. Have you gotten that through your head yet?”

She watched the odometer of rage work its way over his face, and he fairly exploded. His hands flew up to support that mental image.

“Jesus Starling, I’m doing you a favor, offering to fuck you. Do you honestly think that any man would want you after you took such an unhealthy obsession with Lecter? Hell no. What is your problem?”

“You’re completely out of line-”

“Bullshit! You think that people don’t notice what an iceberg you are? What is it- is it Lecter? Do you actually want to fuck Lecter? Or have you already?”

“I’m leaving.”

She left Krendler in his office without a look back.

* * * *

Stepping out into the parking lot and then into the car, Clarice fought back biting tears. Her general outrage against Paul Krendler’s accusations was not the general cause of her distress. The fact that they were true was.

The tears finally began to slip out of her eyes when she thought about what she had done, and how she’d enjoyed it. Hannibal Lecter was by far the best lover she had ever encountered. Shuddering, she thought, briefly, about how if that got out, how she’d made love to a madman, how it could crush her.

Her mind slipped past all the denial and the pain, and back to that winter day two Decembers ago, when she had been home alone working on a paper. The Good Doctor had stepped in for a visit without a sound and surprised Clarice.

A gasp caught in her throat as she recognized the presence in her living room to be only one person. The gasp was followed not by a scream or a quick movement towards her .45, but a quick in her pulse that could not be credited to fear, but to something entirely different. Everything in the room seemed to move in slow circles, and her eyes narrowed to focus on his advancing form.

“Good evening, Clarice. I know I said I would not call on you, and this is a breach of that contract, but I find myself unable to keep my word. Please forgive me.”

Her hand reached up to her neck and curled around there like a necklace. She should do something; she should threaten him, something…

“Why are you here, Doctor Lecter?”

A small chuckle was his reply. He walked closer still to her and she did nothing even then. Taking a seat on the couch next to her, the Doctor gazed into hers with cold, though polite, eyes. She would never know what he was thinking then, and didn’t dare to ask.

“Doctor?”

He raised an eyebrow. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and let her files slide to the floor. Lecter nodded his head to them.

“I’ve heard that work could be better.”

It was a statement, not an inquiry, and she knew the truth of it and nodded her head. She wanted to talk to him about it, wanted to tell him her frustration with the system and what crappy work it was feeding her.

“Why didn’t Crawford put you in Behavioral Sciences after you caught Bill?” He really didn’t seem to know the answer to his question, and Clarice realized that maybe that was the only time he ever had.

“Someone high up doesn’t like me.”

“But Jack Crawford likes you quite enough; don’t you think he would be able to get you a job there regardless? Doesn’t it anger you that he hasn’t tried?”

Yes, actually, it did bother her that Crawford never gave more than minimal effort to get her up into B.S. but she decided against telling Lecter that and stayed silent. He did too, for a moment, but eventually broke it.

“Do not think you can keep secrets from me, Little Starling. It is a futile point.”

“What secrets am I keeping from you, Doctor Lecter?”

“Well, for starters, let’s say that little white lie that you are actually afraid of me. I’ve been around a long time, Clarice, and I know fear when I see it. This,” he said, gesturing a hand to her, “is not fear, but something completely different.”

Her chin lifted, but her heart pounded. She wondered if he knew, or was just bluffing.

“Different like how?”

A smile.

“You tell me.”

He knew. Those words and that smile sealed her fate. She desperately hoped that he didn’t think she was a foolish little girl. She bit her lip and lowered her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him, and knowing if she did then he would know exactly how much she wanted him. How stupid could one person be, she asked herself.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Clarice. Tell me.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Then what do I do to you?”

“You know the answer to that question. You’ve always known.”

“I want to hear you tell me, Clarice.”

“You excite me, Doctor.”

“Enough of this ‘Doctor’ business. I think that your current standing and feelings permits you to use my first name.”

“Hannibal.”

It was the first time she had used his first name without the ’cannibal’ tag, and that was the only thing that scared her.

“What did you mean by exciting you?”

“You arouse me. And I wish you would stop pretending you don’t know that. Just come out and tell me off already.”

He was silent, and it killed her. She wondered if she had made him mad. She hoped not.

“What makes you think that I’m going to tell you off, Clarice?”

He leaned forward before she had time to catch her breath, but she had processed what he said. When his mouth caught against hers, she absurdly thought that he was going to eat her tongue. But when instead of eating it, he massaged it with his own, she let out a groan that was half relief and half hunger. His mouth moved from her mouth to her ear and then to her neck in a hazy trail. She wondered for the second time in her life if she was depraved.

* * * *

An hour later, when she slid into her body, Clarice could think of only him, not what he had done or what he was probably going to do in the future. Just him and how good he was making her feel. She did not know then that her doom had been sealed.

She was shaking in the car when she thought about it, and she remembered that when she woke up the next morning, the only thing left in the house the proved he was there was a note on the pillow next to her, telling her that she still needed time to consider why she felt the way she did. She did not think she would ever see him again, and instantly shut down.

Her career depended on her complete loyalty, and she wanted to keep her career. Sleeping with killers, no matter how she felt about them, would not keep her loyal. Perhaps in another lifetime they could be together. Or perhaps in a future book?


End file.
